Bad writing is like a cheap drink. You don't know if you should finish it on economic principle or dump it out to save your body the high fructose syrup poisoning. But success in writing, or so I'm told, comes from practice and perserverence. Thus, this blog. The good, the bad, and the "no one is reading this anyway."
As far as I can tell, a blog is a carefully constructed diary, meant to appear witty and impromptu, which others can follow and judge. The act of writing, of committing something to the page (albeit electronic) implies the hope that somehow, somewhere, sometime, that slip of paper will be found, the words taken in. The chance to reach another mind. Secretly, we all crave the validation.
I firmly believe that it takes a sort of arrogance to be a writer. To believe that my string of words will somehow influence another, speak to a trembling heart or reaffirm the secret desires of a likeminded soul. To sell your words like a blockbuster, all guns blazing. But interwoven in this capicity for blustering cheekiness lurks an insecurity, a fear of failure, or worse, or mediocrity.
Thus I find myself. But rather than hide in the shadows whilst I polish and perfect, I'll post these drafts, these meandering murmurs. But before I get too high-handed, I should confess that the main objective of this blog will be to communicate my daily experiences and reflections. Thus this blog will mainly be of interest to a select following, such as mom and dad. But a budding writer cannot be too picky with his or her target audience. Readership is readership and must be duly noted.
Until next time my weary travellers...
